


Copy that, Copycat

by Sugar_and_Salt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, alternative universe, slightly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: Jongin and Kyungsoo are very similar. They like the same books, movies, and even people. That is, until Sehun enters the frame...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes another weird, little story~   
> As always goes: if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Seeing people take interest in this is a huge compliment ♥  
>   
> Love,  
> Sugar_and_Salt ♥
> 
>  
> 
> _♪ This fic was originally written for [saemriel ](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/545299)in the [Secret Santa](http://sncj-santa.livejournal.com/) event 2016 ♪ _
> 
>  

Jongin and Kyungsoo were so similar. They shared the same interests and liked the same types of movies and people.

They even shared a life.

Since Jongin wasn't just anybody to Kyungsoo. Since Kyungsoo wasn't just anybody to the _world_. No, Kyungsoo was the youngest son of a family as old as the system itself. For years, they had served the government, and the earliest ones had even been some of the founders. Kyungsoo was a precious gem that was eyed by both friends and foes, and sometimes both were to be found in the same person. People like Kyungsoo needed protection, and that's where Jongin came in.

Jongin was his confidant. He wasn't a bodyguard, though Kyungsoo usually had one during important events. But bodyguards could be hired by anyone. Jongin couldn't be hired, not anymore. Because Jongin wore a little piece of metal in his body that tied them together, a flat, rectangular and complex-looking piece of technology he'd caught a short glimpse of before he was supposed to never see it again. Nowadays, Jongin sometimes massaged his left thigh, feeling its vague shape beneath his skin. Maybe, if he was any less sinewy, he'd only feel soft flesh. But just like Kyungsoo, he didn't gain weight easily.

It wasn't like Kyungsoo _looked_ like him. He really didn't. Where Jongin was all thin, bronzed arms and legs, Kyungsoo was rather soft and curvy, with small, petite shoulders and fair skin. Though there had been a time when they'd spent a blissful summer on an island, where Kyungsoo had almost come to mirror Jongin's skin tone. It had filled him with an irrational happiness.

Kyungsoo liked to say Jongin was all chocolate and caramel: milk chocolate irises, dark chocolate curls, and smooth, sun-kissed caramel skin. Jongin liked to think that Kyungsoo was a starless December night. Inky black hair and dark, dark irises that contrasted his snowy-white skin and lured Jongin in.

So no, they didn't physically resemble each other. But their souls were the same. It wasn't the doing of the chip in his thigh though, definitely not. The chip was simply the leash binding him to Kyungsoo. It made a betrayal impossible, and if Kyungsoo insisted on him telling the truth, Jongin had to comply, spurred on by whatever the little thing did to his body.

Jongin followed him around everywhere to be a safe anchor for Kyungsoo as well as a perpetual eye witness the court could trust. He didn't follow him around like a shadow though, unlike most confidants he'd seen so far. Jongin hadn't been baited by large amounts of money that could never compensate for the loss of time anyway - Jongin had volunteered for this position, because he and Kyungsoo had always been close. Ever since that fateful day where Kyungsoo had slipped into the bench next to nine-year-old Jongin at school, telling him that he, too, liked the game he was playing.

'Really? It's my favourite,' Jongin had replied enthusiastically, and Kyungsoo had nodded in agreement.

'Yeah, it's my favourite as well.'

Back then, there was no telling what the future would bring. But when the world became less blurry and their worldview slowly sharpened as the years zoomed by, it also became obvious that Kyungsoo would one day get a confidant. And while his parents were looking around for possible candidates, Jongin had offered himself up for the job early on, in private.

'I could do it, you know?'

Kyungsoo had warned him that the sacrifice was great. Jongin had argued that it wasn't a real sacrifice if they were together all the time, anyway.

He didn't voice out loud that dedicating his life to Kyungsoo was easily the most appealing option he's ever had.

 

They didn't share a bed anymore, nowadays. Technically, they didn't even share a room. Jongin's room was right next to Kyungsoo's though, and sometimes, they still had random sleepovers, even though they spent most of their time together already. Still, they'd laze around on Kyungsoo's bed, re-watching the same movies they had always loved while eating their favourite food and quoting their favourite insiders.

It was one of Jongin's favourite things ever, because it combined their comfortable childhood with the more mature present. Jongin was almost painfully aware of the fact that the way he craved Kyungsoo went deeper than friendship should, much deeper. It had done so for years, and while any form of confession was not an option (he wasn't even sure whether Kyungsoo exclusively liked girls or not), he could at least be incredibly close to Kyungsoo. There had been a time when Kyungsoo had tried to date an admittedly pretty and intelligent girl, but it didn't last too long. Being with someone of Kyungsoo's rank wasn't an easy feat.

It was one of those mornings where Jongin slept over at Kyungsoo's room, had reveled in and shivered at the way their ankles would occasionally brush. He had awoken to Kyungsoo ruffling his hair, and as usual, it had taken him a little longer to rouse. Kyungsoo was probably dressed by now and was currently making breakfast, if he had successfully sent the maids for a break.

With a yawn, Jongin walked down the lavishly furnished house, trying to get his messy hair to cooperate with him. It was a weekday, which meant that after breakfast, Kyungsoo would head to the office, and Jongin would follow him, as usual. They'd nap on their way there in the car because they both easily got sleepy in vehicles. Upon arriving, Kyungsoo would take care of the minor tasks the higher ups entrusted him with, while Jongin assisted him however Kyungsoo saw fit. Sometimes, he'd mark certain things by hand, scan their law articles in search for something or simply get Kyungsoo lunch.

Today, things were different. Kyungsoo wasn't making their favourite pancakes - in fact, he wasn't even in the kitchen. He was sitting in the living room, across a guy Jongin had never seen before.

Just like him, Kyungsoo didn't like talking to people early in the morning, so the stranger had better have a good excuse for disrupting their morning routine.

 

"Oh, Jongin."

Kyungsoo sounded mildly surprised as he looked over his shoulder. Of course he had _known_ that it was Jongin standing in the doorway. They worked like that.

There was some honest surprise painted across his features, and Jongin would discover the reason very soon.

"This guy just volunteered to be my second confidant."

Jongin's thoughts vanished in a thick, black fog, leaving behind nothing but vast, scary darkness.

 

* * *

 

Oh Sehun. He was called Oh Sehun, and Jongin hated him.

Apparently, the guy had lived in poverty and figured that being some sort of 'servant' was better than being a bother to his parents for the rest of his life - Jongin had openly scoffed in distaste when he heard those words. Servant. He could go ahead and be nothing but a mere servant, but Jongin was more than that. Much more!

Well, now Oh Sehun could probably provide his parents with enough money to lead a nice life. Was it worth leaving his life behind though? Probably not, Jongin thought bitterly, as he watched the tall guy peacefully read a book in the corner of the living room. Not because Kyungsoo wasn't worth it, but because being there for Kyungsoo didn't _mean_ anything to Sehun. At least not like it did to him. Sehun read a cheap thriller that Jongin could only shake his head at. He and Kyungsoo didn't like thrillers. They thrived off fantastical stories, or at the very least, exceedingly complex novels. Sehun wasn't anything like them. Like Kyungsoo. He shouldn't be here, and it was obvious.

Now, having more than one confidant wasn't strange at all, but Jongin couldn't help feeling at least a little betrayed. People didn't volunteer out of nowhere, there had to be an opening. Kyungsoo had prompted for a second confidant, and it hurt. So much.

Why? Wasn't he enough? He was giving his _all_ though...

The fact that Kyungsoo wasn't nearly as opposed to Sehun's presence as Jongin was made it worse. Was it because he disagreed with Jongin on something? No, surely it was just in the way Kyungsoo talked to Sehun. He was so... nice to him. Way too nice. Sure, Jongin got it. Sehun was new at this. He had to be shown around a lot, things were explained to him, and Kyungsoo was nothing but warm and welcoming. Most people would pen the young man, who was basically royalty, as a stoic, cold person. Of course, Jongin knew better. Yes, maybe Sehun deserved the warmth if they were to be linked together for a long time, but did Kyungsoo have to look at him like that? Did he have to smile like that, touch his forearm as they talked? He'd never done that to anyone but Jongin before.

Did that mean maybe Jongin wasn't as special as he'd thought?

Or maybe he was getting boring?

 _Hey, please tell me_ , Jongin thought as he watched Sehun rest with his chin on Kyungsoo's shoulder, while the latter browsed through some documents on his tablet.

 _It's confusing, please tell me what's going on_ , he pleaded inside his head over and over again.

But he didn't voice it. He shouldn't have to, Kyungsoo knew him best, right? They were soulmates, after all - right?

But Kyungsoo didn't seem to hear his inner thoughts as he usually did, and when he left one evening with Sehun to attend a business meeting, he even rejected Jongin for the first time Jongin could remember.

'You can stay home, Sehun will accompany me tonight. Enjoy your evening - you don't have to wait for us to return.'

 

He had left him behind. In favour of Sehun, Kyungsoo had left him alone.

Jongin had walked numbly up to his room, coming to a halt right in the middle.

 _Enjoy your evening_ , he'd said.

 _I'd rather take Sehun with me_ , he'd thought. _Because Sehun is less bland. He's tall, clingy and reads cheap thrillers._ _Unlike you, who is slightly shorter, doesn't dare touch me and reads the same books I read. Watches the same movies I watch. Likes the same dishes I like. Laughs at the same jokes I find funny._

And Jongin looked around the room. At his posters and books, old toy cars, borrowed shirts and even the stray candy wrappers on his desk.

And asked himself whether he had ever been the first to start anything. He just copied Kyungsoo, didn't he? His likes and dislikes, all his little quirks... Jongin merely accommodated him, latching onto him, silently yearning for more. So what in this room was unique to him? Not _them_ , but him?

Who even was Kim Jongin at this point?

Jongin couldn't find anything. That evening, he shoved all the objects off his desk, ripped his posters off the walls and threw a glass that crashed and broke at his shelf, leaving juice splattered everywhere. He destroyed anything that would break, heedless of whether it pierced his skin in the process. He searched and searched, but Kim Jongin was nowhere to be found.

 

* * *

 

Jongin refused to believe that something inside him broke that night. No, there had to be an explanation for it. Maybe... the chip was doing weird things to him. It forced him to be loyal, right? It only made sense that Sehun arriving was messing with him - it roused his urge to protect Kyungsoo, and also sparked a real fear of abandonment. He could hardly be of much help to Kyungsoo when he decided to abandon him. Feeling this was good, right? It tied him to Kyungsoo and made him incapable of harming him. But if he was unable to willingly hurt Kyungsoo, then why didn't he manage to feel happy for him, either? Why was this so hard? Jongin was like Kyungsoo. When it rained in the morning and the humidity invaded the room, Jongin's nose would wrinkle unhappily, wary of the prospect of a grey, cold day. Just like Kyungsoo. When Kyungsoo was unhappy, impatient, resigned or angry, Jongin would feel the same. So why didn't it work in the other direction?

Because Jongin was just the blank mirror, without any motives of his own?

"Jongin. Hey."

He flinched from his position on the bench as Kyungsoo gingerly touched his shoulder. He should have heard his arrival in the sea of dead silent flowers and leaves.

Jongin didn't know what to say, so he kept his gaze fixated on his knees while Kyungsoo sank down next to him, almost close enough for their sides to touch. Almost. Jongin hated how much he feared and craved any touch.

"I didn't expect to see _you_ in the garden," Kyungsoo said, and Jongin shrugged.

"You still found me."

"Of course I did."

It was this casual tone that sparked a certain anger in him. Of course, because he was cheap and simple like that. There was nothing challenging about him.

He knew why Kyungsoo was here. It was inevitable that he would find out about the ruckus Jongin had caused about a week ago, no matter how carefully he had kept Kyungsoo out of his room.

"Is something wrong with you?" he asked, deceivingly calm, though Jongin could taste the layer of genuine worry coating his words.

"Is something wrong with _you_?" Jongin asked back before he knew it. A fleeting gaze told him that Kyungsoo was blinking in confusion.

"No?"

"Then there's nothing wrong with me, either," he said dismissively, getting to his feet.

 _Because I'm just your mirror_ , Jongin thought.

And for some reason he got the sudden urge to make Kyungsoo cry. Make him cry in real agony just so he could cry, too. Get the permission to feel sad. _But wasn't he sad right now?_

A strong hand gripped his wrist before he could take a step away from the confusion and dangerously flickering emotions.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo said, looking up at him. Jongin wanted to get lost in the starless night.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

 _No_ , his mind yelled.

_I'm out of control. I just wanted to hurt you._

_The chip is broken. I'm broken._

The chip.

Jongin ripped free and hurriedly stalked down the path and towards the house. Kyungsoo wouldn't follow him. Whenever either of them was suffering from a flare of temper, they'd leave each other alone.

Either of them. God, why couldn't it stop?

It was this stupid chip! It was messing with him, this was all wrong!

In a flash, Jongin took the stairs two at a time, ignoring whatever Sehun shouted after him. How could this guy still try to talk to him? Jongin had never graced him with anything above a tortured smile. He didn't even consider stopping for him, or anyone, really. Not even for Kyungsoo - which should be proof enough that the chip was broken. No, his goal was clear, and as he stumbled inside his room, closing the door behind him, he already saw it twinkling at him from his shelf.

The glass felt cool in his fingers. Almost tender. Comforting. There was still some sticky residue from the juice, but what did it matter, really?

Jongin sank to the ground, the fingers of his left hand kneading his thigh. There, somewhere around there the chip was killing him from beneath the six layers of skin humans possessed. Or maybe it lay a little deeper? Jongin hissed at the sting when rough edges cut into his hand as he sliced open the coarse jeans fabric. Too clumsy. Adjusting his hold, he used his shaky fingers to guide the tip of glass over his skin. Delving beneath the ripped fabric, he didn't hesitate a second before piercing his skin. There was no use counting the layers, because he wasn't planning on stopping before he'd reached the metal.

The blood on his hands mixed with the juice, and it was messy. The red liquid instantly poured out of the wound, following the sharp pain; it stuck to the fabric and everything got stained. But Jongin didn't have to see, for he knew where it was.

And as he pushed the shard down, began to saw at the flesh with choppy motions, he was amazed at how empty his mind was. There was nothing but one thought, written in sloppy black ooze dripped into the snow.

This, too, he was doing for Kyungsoo. Not for himself. He simply wanted to make the pain go away, so he could be better for Kyungsoo. What a horribly empty being he was.

His leg felt like it was burning, and there was more blood seeping out, but what did it matter when the traitorous piece of metal was there, lying in a little puddle of blood on the palm of his hand. That horrible little thing that ruined everything-

"Oh my- Jongin!"

It wasn't exactly a scream, because Kyungsoo never got loud, not even in situations like these. Jongin felt woozy, and his surroundings were too blurry to make anything out at this point, but he'd recognize Kyungsoo's voice anywhere. Cool fingers were rubbing at his face, smearing the hot tears that took his sight, while something pressed on the pain in his leg.

"It bleeds so much, fuck."

Oh. Kyungsoo had cursed. What a rare moment to witness.

"Jongin. Hey. Are you with me?"

Jongin blinked hard, trying to get rid of the remaining tears. When had he even started crying?

He opened his eyes to meet Kyungsoo's. And a horrible realization set in - he felt just like he had in the minutes prior. Nothing had changed. Another wave of hot frustration blissfully blurred his sight, sparing him from whatever he might find in Kyungsoo's eyes.

"If you wanted to quit, you should have just said so. I'm not angry."

Jongin shook his head viciously, and the tension caused his wound to bleed more, which Kyungsoo took with a distressed sound in the back of his throat.

"I just wanted to be better," Jongin mumbled, feeling Kyungsoo’s fingers that were wet with tears begin to rub circles into the side of his neck.

"Better at what?"

"At everything. At being yours. Your confidant. I thought the chip was messing with my mind and body, I thought it was its fault-"

"Jongin, the chip doesn't do any of that. It doesn't do anything most of the time. It only works when either I order you or the government communicates with it-"

Jongin didn't even listen, though he did blindly clutch Kyungsoo's upper arm with his own, tainted hand.

"-but it was all me! I'm just ugly and hollow! I have no personality, I have _nothing_ of my own!"

He attempted to list all the things he did _not_ have to offer when he was interrupted by a firm hug.

"I'm so sorry, Jongin."

He whimpered pathetically, and the metal was digging into his palm, trapped between his hand and Kyungsoo's upper back.

"So sorry. I didn't mean to take anything away from you, not ever."

_What?_

"What are you talking about?"

When had he last shared such a long, lasting hug with Kyungsoo? He couldn't remember. He'd always wanted it though. Always.

"I thought this was about Sehun. I really just wanted to alleviate your duties by taking him in. But... this is about something else, right?"

Why did Kyungsoo sound so miserable?

Miserable like Jongin felt, right now?

"It's just that,” Kyungsoo started carefully, “you've always been... my biggest role model."

"What?"

This time, he'd said it out loud, a confused mewl breathed into the fabric that carried Kyungsoo's distinct scent. He felt the sigh going through his body, too.

"It's because I admired you so much that I began to adapt to your likings. I just really wanted to be close to you. I should have realized you needed your own space. I'm so sorry."

This time, Jongin drew away, unconsciously cringing at the feeling of fabric clinging to his bloody hands.

"What are you talking about? You didn't adapt to anything? I was just... copying you. It was all me. I just wanted you to like me."

He saw the minuscule twitch of his eyebrows, the confusion flitting over Kyungsoo's face. It wasn't faked.

"No. No..." he mumbled, readjusting his hand to keep the blood from seeping out of Jongin’s thigh. "I-I... it was me. Wasn't it? I've always been too selfish to let you go. Even though it shouldn't be like this, with you being my confidant. Relationships don't last forever, but being a confidant does. I realize that. And yet..."

Jongin stared at the genuine regret swimming in the inky black sky.

Maybe he was nothing but a mirror. But so was Kyungsoo. And they both mirrored each other. Where did the input come from that was bouncing off the glass again and again?

Where did all this start? What was driving it?

Jongin could only answer the last question. _They were driving it_.

 _They_.

 _Plural, as always_ , Jongin thought as they simultaneously leaned towards each other for a light brush of their lips.

 

His bloody palm came to a rest over Kyungsoo's, right over his wound. Back. He wanted to take it back. This wasn't over yet. After all - if you took away one mirror, what would become of the other?

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
